November/December 2003

Andy’s hand slides under her nightie and strokes her thigh. His body curls around hers, spoon-style. Carol shrugs her husband off. He rolls over and starts snoring. The bedside clock digits shift [...]

You suicides are all alike: too strong an imagination. You did what you did, now shut up. — Samuel Beckett My 13, 1987. Six weeks left of high school, six more weeks until we were free. That day, [...]